


Enjoy Your Stay

by quentintarrantino



Category: Casino Royale (2006), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Past Relationship(s), past Vesper/Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quentintarrantino/pseuds/quentintarrantino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q finds a photograph of Vesper in Bond's flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enjoy Your Stay

In the end Q is sure he didn’t even mean to leave it out. The Quartermaster knows that the life of an agent is told only in vignettes, a life in slides defined by their missions. He knows there’s things about Bond that he will most likely never know, much like Bond doesn’t know much about Q. He thinks over how many times in how many different ways 007 has tried to get him to tell him his actual name.

He wasn’t prepared for this however.

Its laying out on his coffee table, inconspicuous and Q would’ve skipped over it had he not recognized the emblem. In fancy script are the words ‘Casino Royale’, a complimentary hotel bag, black velvet. Underneath in less flaunty font it urges him to enjoy his stay. Q doesn’t snoop, he prides himself on having little to no curiosity about other people and their lives but just then it seems like the most interesting thing in the world and with his long fingers he unties the bag and looks inside.

There are mostly nonsensical tourist items, a casino chip, some kind of women’s necklace… Q didn’t peg Bond as the man that took momentos with him. He digs his hand in a little more and finds an old white cell phone. The battery is fully charged, strange, and the home screen reads ‘Vesper Lynde’. The Quartermaster wonders if this is something for a mission he’s recently pulled but in all his recent file browsing for the 00s he doesn’t recall Casino Royale showing up anywhere on any of them. His Earl Grey is growing cold but he isn’t bothered in the least by it, so enthralled by what he’s finding.

There’s a seashell, the ridges worn as if someone spends an excess amount of time rubbing their thumb over it and in the very bottom of the bag is a photograph. It’s creased at the edges which means it’s seen the world, carted and carried everywhere. Burns and tears are all along the sides and Q sees a woman, she’s truly lovely, her hair is windblown as she dips her feet off the side of a sailboat, leaning back to look at the photographer. There’s a sadness in her eyes but a coy smile that reminds Q much of Bond.

Q places the items back into the bag and leans back, staring blankly ahead. Who was this woman? A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach tells Q he already knows who she was. The one that got away, it would seem. He wonders if 007 loved her, no, that was a stupid question, of course he loved her. He wouldn’t have kept reminders if he had no feelings. This strange mysterious woman now long gone and all he could offer in her place was tea in the mornings.

The Quartermaster didn’t like this, the idea that was competing with someone he didn’t even know. He felt… inadequate. What had she given to him? How had she touched him so profoundly? Q sipped his chilled tea and stared out the window, his back turned to the bag.

\--

He’s aware that Bond is onto him, the bag had moved and its contents shifted around. He quietly scoops it up and puts it in a hall closet and they don’t talk about it but it seems 007 has already figured out everything there is to know about what happened while he was gone.

Q pulls away slightly whenever they touch, the image of that woman, Vesper, burned into his brain. She looked clever, Q’s ego won’t allow him to believe she was smarter than him and she probably wasn’t but he bet she knew more about the world than he does. He thinks about her at work, wondering if she wasn’t afraid of flying. Is she still alive? Does Bond even know? These thoughts occupy his mind whenever he spends the night; James will watch him from the corner of his eyes as he stares off into space, hands wrapped firmly around his mug.

It seems his insecurities have overridden his pride and more and more he realizes just how young and naïve he must be compared to that woman in the photograph. Over the months whenever Bond is gone he will begin to actively seek out the bag. Sometimes he finds it and sometimes he doesn’t, he goes through her phone messages, random words that make no sense to him. Had she been a 00? Vesper Lynde, the brave clever woman who made James Bond fall in love with her and here he was, a too skinny young man with the complexion of a child. Sure he was intelligent but he hadn’t seen a day outside of England. He saw more and more the differences between him and Bond, he saw the way 007 had no interest in technology and Q held no patience for football. The little things that made him wonder forever why they were together at all.

\--

It’s seven months since he first found that little bag on the coffee table. Seven months and still he hasn’t stopped wondering. They are laying in the bed in his flat and Bond is propped up on his elbow, examining the Quartermaster’s face as he tries to work.

“I loved her.” He says simply, Q knows exactly who he is referring to but still he works to keep his face from betraying him. Why would he feel betrayed? This was ancient history.

“I’m so happy for you both.” He replies back, voice level.

This doesn’t appear to satisfy Bond, who sits up a bit to reach towards him. Q stiffens and is ignored as 007 shuts his laptop and sets it gingerly on the side table, pulling the skinny man down to the mattress with him. Q has always liked the way he fits in the curve of Bond’s chest, snug against his forearms clasped over his pale front. Their skin is warm when pressed together. “Do you want to hear the story or not?” the agent asks him, lips close to Q’s ear.

Without waiting 007 plunges in and it’s all the Quartermaster can do to listen and try and piece together the truth. “I was in Montenegro and I became stupid, I trusted someone I shouldn’t have trusted-,”

“Vesper.” Q murmurs into the dark, he feels the way Bond goes rigid momentarily at the mention of her name and closes his eyes.

“Yes, Vesper.” When the agent speaks again his voice sounds thick, like he’s remembering things he’d rather not. “I trusted her and I was burnt, she was working for the opposite team and for it she paid dearly.”

This doesn’t give him the answers he needed, Q sets his jaw. “You said you loved her.” He tries not to make it sound as accusing as it does in his head and he fails.

“I did love her.” James says gently, his hold around Q tightens, inching him around so that they are facing each other. With their eyes adjusted to the dark the Quartermaster sees every scar and bit of stubble, the face he’s become so acquainted with over the weeks and days of him being so stationary in his life. “I will never forget her but I have since moved on.”

“Is she dead?”

Deafening silence reigns over the bedroom and for the first time Q worries he’s said the wrong thing. Never once in the span of their relationship had he ever regretted anything he’s said. It just wasn’t his style, he was too careful to create bad blood through his word choice but now the way he feels Bond’s muscles tighten and his breathing go husky he wishes he can take them back. “Yes. She killed herself.” The answer is dead , almost as if he has shut off all emotion.

“Why are you telling me this?” the next question comes out much easier, he’s hurried to get away from that topic.

“Because I see the way you’ve acted since you found the photo. Do you really think if I didn’t want to spend time with you I’d be here right now?” the bed moves as Bond holds him at arms length to look him in the eye, it proves difficult in a dark room but he manages just the same. Q feels like a child right now, once his fears are confirmed to be so childish. He looks away but 007 brings his chin back, his words aren’t harsh at all, they sound saddened. “I think I should be the insecure one, look at you. Super genius technology whiz, beautiful and young, I see it in their eyes at headquarters when I walk in. They wonder what you’re doing wasting time with an old man like me.”

At this last remark anger flares bright and bold inside Q’s chest. “Don’t be stupid.” He snaps.

Bond doesn’t fight the case instead he just chuckles and pulls him in closer. “Be that as it may, I’m not here because I pity you, god knows I’m not here because I pity you. You insufferable twat of a man.” Q huffs, squirming a bit.

“If you’re going to shower me in compliments you best get to it, I’m getting tired of hearing the browbeating.” The younger of the two states hotly.

“I don’t want your head swelling any bigger.” Bond murmurs. “Sometimes the heart wakes up and realizes that it doesn’t want what it thought it did anymore. Sometimes it decides to pursue a different avenue.” He says this last bit so low it’s barely audible and understanding dawns like morning at midnight. “Even if she were alive, I think I would rather you.”

Q isn’t sure what to call the kiss he receives, but it tastes like relief and victory and maybe somewhere in there it tastes a bit like grief. Like the silent mourning a lover will always carry for their counterpart who has passed on and the Quartermaster cannot fathom the pain. He has no frame of reference except to imagine the news that Bond had died and the pain that comes with that scenario is too great to even entertain in theory. When he begins to work his mouth around 007’s there’s a sigh as rough hands close around his waist.

Vesper may have been the past but Q is his future and James Bond is very much looking forward to it.


End file.
